The Million-Dollar Question, page 3
Maybe she was just lonely and in need of a friend. Just because he was having flashbacks to happier, more naked times, there was no reason to assume she was, as well. And while he’d broken a major tenet of the Guy Code by sleeping with her before, there was an equally important tenet of the Code that required him to look after a friend’s sister when she was new and alone in a big city. There were as many possibilities as pitfalls here. “Well, I guess if you’re fully aware I’m still a heartless bastard and are willing to accept that, then there’s no reason we can’t be friends anyway.”
Olivia’s eyes widened at the baldness of his words, but he could rest easy either way knowing she was coming in with her eyes wide open. The ball was in her court, and he was frankly very curious to find out how she’d play.
Because she couldn’t say he hadn’t warned her.
You’re a coward. A fool. A screaming idiot who should be kept on a leash for her own safety.
Olivia stared at herself in the mirror of the ladies’ room and frowned. She’d had such clear, simple goals for this dinner, and she’d failed to accomplish even one.
Instead, she couldn’t have made a bigger mess if she’d tried.
In a just and fair world, anger and hurt feelings would not fade enough over time to allow the person who caused those feelings to have the same effect on her that had gotten her into the situation in the first place. Instead of being hit with all the things about Evan she’d hated him for, she’d been overwhelmed with all the things that had sucked her into Evan’s bed in the first place.
It was easy enough to say he was charming and good-looking, but it was another to face that head-on. The way that baritone slithered through her insides, turning them to jelly; the way those blue, blue eyes could make the most casual glance feel like a caress. It was even more devastating because he wasn’t trying to seduce her. That was just his default setting, a natural part of his personality that made him catnip to women.
It was humiliating. She might not have Evan’s legions of former lovers, but she wasn’t an innocent anymore either. She’d taken lovers, had flings and summer romances, so why was Evan able to reduce her to a simpering virgin again?
Mercy.
She’d been rattled and ready to run for the door the minute she’d laid eyes on him. She should have known then that the whole idea was insane, made her excuses and left instead. But no, she just had to try.
Wandering up to a random stranger on the street and asking if they wanted to support the MMBC and adopt a dancer might have been less nerve-racking and equally as successful. And she’d probably like herself a bit more afterward than she did right now.
It hadn’t been a completely crazy idea, just one that worked much better in theory than in practice. Regardless of how sensible it sounded on the surface, she hadn’t been able to shake that uneasy feeling that swirled underneath, and she was now very glad she hadn’t followed, though.
Maybe I’m not a coward. She was a decent human being who’d got carried away for a minute, but pulled back in time. Points for that. And she’d made it through dinner without making a complete fool of herself, so bonus points could be awarded, as well.
Thank goodness Evan could be so blunt, or else she might have tried to pull off this stunt—which she was now viewing as pretty gauche and tacky. She was now going to say good-night and go home, thanking her lucky stars she wasn’t leaving in shame.
She’d sort out the other confusing stuff later. Much later, and when she was alone. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Time for a dignified end to this farce of an evening.
Evan was waiting for her out front. “Thank you for dinner,” she said. “It was good to see you.” Handshake? Air kiss?
“And you. Do you have your valet ticket?”
“I walked.”
“I’ll drive you home, then.”
“It’s only six blocks,” she protested, but it sounded weak even to her own ears.
“It’s about to rain.” As if to punctuate his words, a raindrop landed on her shoulder. So much for dry Miami Novembers. It felt like revenge for her tackiness.
Was it worth a standoff? Probably not, and she’d look foolish wanting to walk home in the rain. She was just feeling ashamed of herself in general and didn’t want to drag this out any further. Of course, they could stand here and continue to argue, but the ridiculousness of that would only exacerbate her foolishness. “Okay. Thanks.”
The timing bordered on eerie, as the moment the words left her lips, a car coasted to a stop at the curb and Evan was reaching for the door. The man had to be half genie.
This car was a far cry from the beat-up, perfect-for-trips-to-the-beach Jeep he’d driven in college. Black, low-slung and convertible, it looked expensive and classy, and it suited this adult Evan perfectly.
She wasn’t surprised that the valet knew Evan’s name—she’d gotten the feeling at dinner that he was a regular here—but the fact Evan knew the valet’s name did surprise her. Her experience with rich donors had proved that most of them couldn’t be bothered with the little people. He couldn’t be entirely selfish if he remembered the names of valets and servers.
His car proved that Evan definitely had money—regardless of his modest “we’re still growing” comments and it was almost enough to make her rethink her original, now aborted, plan.
No. Now she had her mother’s voice in her head, reminding her that anything she thought might be a tacky or bad idea probably was, and she bit her tongue as Evan put the car in gear.
“Which way?”
“Left at the light,” she answered absently. The traffic was bad and the streets were crowded, slowing their progress to a crawl. She definitely could have walked home faster than this. Her original refusal seemed less foolish now, as she was trapped in a small, enclosed space with Evan, his hand only inches from her thigh as he shifted gears.
It created an intimacy she wasn’t quite prepared to face at the moment, and in the small space, the silence rapidly gained weight.
When Evan sighed, she knew he felt it, too. “Liv...”
No one but Evan had ever called her Liv. Jory called her Livvy sometimes, but Liv sounded more grown-up and more intimate, somehow. And all things considered, “Liv” carried a lot of baggage straight into the conversation.
She tried to keep it light, nonetheless. “Yes?”
Evan turned his head toward her, but his face was unreadable. “Just so you know, I’m sorry for what happened. Particularly the way I treated you.”
She had to swallow her shock. That certainly was the last thing she’d ever thought she’d hear. She’d given up hope of an explanation or apology years ago. “Thank you,” she managed after a long pause.
He seemed genuinely surprised at her response. “For what?”
“For saying that. It means a lot.”
He shrugged a shoulder as he changed lanes. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but I can still regret my behavior. The apology may be years too late, but it is sincere.”
It was oddly much easier to have this conversation side-on, instead of having to look directly at him. She kept her eyes front and said, “For an admitted bastard, that was a nice apology.”
She cut her eyes toward him just in time to see the corner of his mouth twitch as if he found that funny. “Thank you.”
I won’t ask for details. Asking would sound pathetic and whiny. And there was a very good chance she wouldn’t like what she would hear. “Can I ask why things ended the way they did between us?” she said, wincing even as she did.
“Beyond the fact I’m cold and selfish?”
This time, she did turn to face him. “You’re saying there’s not one?”
He looked at her as though he was sizing her up and coming to a decision. Then his eyes went back to the road as traffic began to move again. “Not that I’m willing to share.”
“Like that’s not going to drive me crazy now,” She muttered, really not caring what it might sound like to him.
“If I tell you it was genuinely me and not at all you, would that help?”
He sounded sincere, and something panged inside her, reminding her of the sweet side of him she’d seen and gone cow-eyed over in the past. Jory had been uncharacteristically closed-mouthed about Evan’s background, but she’d known his childhood had been difficult and that he spent time at her parents’ house because he was estranged from his own family. She easily painted him as wounded, and being naive and smug and influenced by too many romantic movies, she’d cast herself as the woman who’d heal the misunderstood bad boy’s heart. “Maybe. But—”
A skater shot out in front of them, nearly invisible in the mist and dark, and Evan jammed on the brakes, throwing her against her seat belt. His hand flew out at the same time, landing painfully on her chest, and the effect of both managed to knock the breath out of her. The skater didn’t even look back as he sped away.
Evan cursed, then asked, “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She purposely looked down to where Evan’s hand was still pressed against her chest, pretty much copping a feel. Evan moved his hand quickly, without comment and without the decency to look even a little abashed or surprised at where it ended up. She, however, felt branded, the imprint of his hand seeming to linger. In hindsight, she should have worn a bra tonight whether she needed it or not. “Dude has a death wish,” she said to break the tension she felt even if he didn’t.
“You were smart to walk. Traffic down here is abysmal.”
“It’ll clear some once you turn.” The sudden stop had sent her purse into the floorboard, and she leaned over to gather the contents back up. Her lipstick, though, had rolled under the seat and she had to contort herself to get to it. Realizing the solution to both her physical and emotional situation, she gave one last stretch and got it, then sat up and said briskly, “I can walk from here, save you some time.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
So much for that idea.
As she promised, the traffic was thinner on her street, and Evan pulled up in front of her building a minute later. “These are nice condos. I’m glad you’re not doing the starving artist thing.”
“I ate half a cow covered in cream sauce for dinner, so I think we’ve already covered the ‘not starving’ part,” she said with a laugh. “And I have a roommate to help cover the rent. It’s a great location for me. It’s fifteen minutes on the bus to the studio, and I can walk pretty much everywhere else.”
She had her purse over her shoulder and a hand on the door, and that horrible how-to-end-the-evening tension returned. Evan’s face was partly shadowed and unreadable, giving her no help there. Not a date, not friends, not business associates.... She didn’t know the protocol.
To her ever-loving surprise, Evan got out of the car and walked around to open her door. Her jaw was still hanging open as he extended a hand to help her out.
For someone who purported to be selfish, he’d been raised right when it came to good manners.
That shock, though, caused her to stumble as she climbed out, pitching herself straight into Evan’s arms. He caught her easily, his arms strong and solid around her. He was warm, and damn it, he smelled good. Her heart jumped into her throat.
Over her head, she heard Evan chuckle. “That was graceful.”
Kill me now.
He set her back on her feet. “You okay?” Evan asked.
“I’m fine. Just clumsy.”
His eyebrow went up. “Maybe it was the wine.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Shaking it off, she rushed ahead with forced cheer and casualness. “Well, thanks again for dinner. And for the ride home.”
His lips twitched. “Take care, Liv. And if you ever need anything, give me a call.”
Oh, the irony. “Good night.”
Evan waited until the security door closed behind her before driving away. It had been a really, really strange evening, where nothing had gone as planned, but it hadn’t been bad either. The beginning and end hadn’t been fantastic, but the middle part, like the over-dinner chitchat, had gone pretty well, all things considered. Had she not gone into it with a specific agenda, she’d have called the evening a success.
But even with that failure, the evening still wasn’t a total disaster. She did live in the same city with Evan, and they might run into each other on occasion; having a truce in place made good sense. And when Jory came to town, he wouldn’t feel as if he had to divide his time so precisely. All good things, she thought, as she climbed the last few stairs to her floor.
Everything else could just be ignored.
Annie was sprawled on the couch, flipping through TV channels, but she sat up when she heard her come in. “How’d it go?”
“Not bad.”
“So he’s going to sponsor you?”
“No.”
“He turned you down? Jeez.” Annie went to the counter and got a wineglass, filling it and handing it to her. “That sucks.”
Olivia accepted the glass gratefully and sank into the cushions on the opposite end of the couch. “He didn’t have to turn me down. I didn’t ask.”
“What? Why not?”
With a sigh, Olivia ran through the evening, all the small things that added up to tip the scales in the direction of keeping her mouth shut. She glossed over her rather disturbing reactions to him, because, for her own sanity, that was best left unexamined.
“I can’t say I blame you. I see where you’re coming from, and I’d probably feel the same way. But,” Annie continued, as she cocked her head, “what, then, did you say to explain why you suddenly wanted to have dinner after all these years?”
“New in town, don’t really know anyone...”
“Olivia, really?” Annie sighed. “He’s going to think you still have the hots for him.”
“What? No. Not likely.”
“You said he has an ego.”
“He does.”
“Then he will. It’s actually the only logical conclusion he could come to, to explain it.”
“He might think I’m insane now, but that’s about all.” And he might not be wrong. She stood and handed her glass to Annie to finish. “I’m going to bed. I’ve got Pilates at eight tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
“Me, too.”
It was a shame, but there was always plan B. Plan B involved making sure that everyone from the chairman of the ballet board all the way down to the stagehands loved her and working her butt off to prove her value to the company. She’d also talk to the business office to see if they had any ideas of how she could land sponsorship—and to suss out how important that sponsorship really was.
That’s what I should have done in the first place, she told herself as she got ready for bed. That was a far more sensible idea than a half-baked plan to talk Evan into it. Hell, plan B should have been plan A. Too bad she didn’t think of it first.
At the same time, she didn’t regret their meeting. It would make things easier for Jory when he came to town. She didn’t know exactly how much Jory knew about her and Evan, but her brother had made it very clear he considered his roommate off-limits to his little sister. He’d been unhappy and grumpy about it. She hadn’t asked him to take sides, but he always seemed uncomfortable bringing up Evan around her after that, giving the whole thing a patina of awkward wrongness—at least to her mind. That, as much as anything else, had led to making it a thing—which, now at least, she realized it really didn’t need to be.
So, in that sense, dinner wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.
The wine, the food and a long day—both physically and mentally—were catching up with her, and the bed beckoned.
As she climbed in and pulled the covers up, she realized she’d gotten distracted by the near miss with that skater and hadn’t followed up on his mysterious “genuinely me, not you” statement.
What could he have possibly meant?
The next morning, just outside Boca Raton, the sudden blaring of “Born This Way” caused Evan to swerve dangerously in his lane.
What the sweet hell? The news program chattered on from his car speakers, but that was undeniably Lady Gaga coming from... under the passenger seat?
Pulling off onto the shoulder, he searched under the seat until he found the source: a phone that went silent about the time he got hold of it. It had an overly sparkly rhinestone case, and when he pressed the home button to wake it up, Olivia and Jory smiled back at him.
He couldn’t figure out how Olivia had managed to leave her phone in his car, but now the question was what to do with it. The screen had a long list of missed calls from “Annie” and “Theo.” Presumably those calls were Olivia using her friends’ phones to locate her own. But the phone was locked, so he had no way of calling back.
Based on the sheer volume of calls, though, if he waited another thirty minutes or so, Olivia would be calling again. Sliding the phone into his shirt pocket, he pulled back out onto the interstate.
Last night had certainly been odd. And while he still didn’t have a good explanation for why Olivia had contacted him, he didn’t regret it. He just wasn’t sure what, if anything, it meant, and what, if anything, he should do about it.
It wasn’t a feeling he liked. In fact, he intentionally avoided these kinds of situations. Everything needed to be up front and clear, without mystery or games or prevarications. Jory was a straight-up, no games, kind of guy, so he’d assumed Olivia would be the same. Why then did he feel so bothered at the idea she might not be?
He snorted. Maybe because he wasn’t sexually attracted to Jory.
